


See Your Sorry Ass In Hell

by olivbaegiroud (Burr4PromQueen)



Series: If you're waiting for Ney's Anatomy to be Updated [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: I'm Sorry, M/M, What Was I Thinking?, i'm trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burr4PromQueen/pseuds/olivbaegiroud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bale and Ronaldo. It's sad. It's real sad man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See Your Sorry Ass In Hell

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you've been reading Ney's Anatomy I'm sorry for the hiatus but I will be putting up two chapters very soon. Promise. I've been drowning in the colossal ocean that is college work. In fact, this was something I wrote for my course. We had to do a 1000 word fiction piece and a 1000 word non-fiction piece. What better to do than some slash right?  
> I can tell you now that I did reverse the roles which isn't something I usually do unless there is a very good reason for doing so. It makes sense as to why Gareth is dominating Cristiano.  
> Cris' speech is in italics to show that he is speaking Portuguese.

Not Gareth. Never his Gareth. Naked in bed. With a woman no less.  How could Cris even function right now? His fiancé was lying in their bed with someone else. The entire concept of this situation made Cris feel sick to his stomach.  How dare he? They were to be wed in four months. Gareth had insisted he go out shopping for his suit with a few of his friends. ‘Just put it on our card!’ he said. If he had known that it would have led to this…

_“I’m going to make some tea. By the time I have finished preparing it, I would very much love it if you threw that whore out of our house,”_ Cris whispered. Shock was consuming him little by little. His fiancée cheating. With a woman. The situation hadn’t registered in Cris’ mind. Never mind that now. Tea was the best solution to this problem.

Meanwhile, Gareth was mentally whipping himself. He never intended to get caught. Who does when they cheat on a lover? As he watched his mistress dress, the regret and realization poured in. That woman had the audacity to put a comforting arm around him. She was the reason that his relationship was about to implode. He shrugged her arm off of his shoulder. For now, he had to think of a plausible explanation. ‘I was weak.’ A tired and stupid excuse. It was overused and overdone. Did he even owe anything to that tenant in his home? If it wasn’t for Gareth, he wouldn’t have a citizenship or a roof over his head. Why should he explain himself?

“That little slut should thank me. I’m the reason he’s even here. Me. Suddenly it’s my fault that he’s not satisfying me anymore? Ha. Sure.”

As expected, Cris was in the kitchen making tea. The tears were dripping down his face at a snail’s pace. His mother was right. ‘Don’t run off with the British boy!’ she said. Look at where that had got him. Heartbroken. His head was pounding. The emotional turmoil was drowning him from the inside out. If Gareth didn’t come and apologise then he would start to go insane. This wasn’t fair. He may as well have been a mail order bride. That’s what the relationship felt like after all. He was Gareth’s pet. His plaything. Gareth came to Portugal; found Cris, brought him back and proposed. Cris didn’t know a single word of English. He always spoke Portuguese around Gareth because he knew he could understand. His family and friends left behind. He had to start a new life. Make new friends. It proved difficult trying to find people who spoke Portuguese where they lived.

His infatuation took over. His mother warned him but he chose not to listen. Attraction had a funny way of screwing you over in the long run. Does it care who you are? No. In a way it’s just like cancer. It takes the right thing to trigger it. Gareth was his cancer. Gareth was the reason he was going to die. He treated him like a doormat. He took advantage of him. Gareth was forty and Cris was twenty one. If anything this was a form of Stockholm syndrome. Gareth had taken him from his home country to marry him. Cris couldn’t see that as he had fallen for the man who was making him feel like the cookie at the bottom of the jar. Crushed, unloved and neglected. Two months into this relationship Cris started suffering from mild depression. Of course Gareth thought he could cure his lover by shoving the credit card in his hand and slapping his backside.

‘Buy yourself something pretty,’ He would always yell after Cris shut the door. Cris would frequently take some money out of the account buy a new shirt and then give the rest to various homeless people. Cris didn’t care. He’d become a shell of a man. He’d been prescribed medication for his illness. Whenever he felt low he would take two. Sometimes they worked; sometimes they didn’t, who cared?

As he was pouring the tea, he wasn’t even focusing enough and managed to spill the scalding liquid onto his feet. Cris didn’t jump, nor did he flinch. He’d become so detached from reality that there wasn’t even a point, emotion or reaction for anything anymore. Gareth didn’t love him like he said he did. Maybe it was because he was ugly. Cris was always trying so hard; going to the gym, doing different things to his body just to please his fiancé. Lately he’d been doing a lot of things for his fiancé. When was the last time Cris thought about himself?

He can’t even remember.

Fine. He was going to start thinking about himself. He strode towards his backpack and pulled out the vial of pills. Often he’d thought about it. Often enough to finally do it. Today would be the day that he would rid himself of all the pain he had been put through. He grabbed Gareth’s best bottle of gin. One by one he took the pills and washed them down. His own medicinal cocktail would be his demise. He’d polished off the entire bottle just before the effects kicked in. His life was flashing before his eyes. In Portugal with his mother, his first boyfriend Ricardo, eating feijoada on the beach with his friends. His life before Gareth. Before the man he thought he loved dragged the demons out of him.

Smash. He dropped the bottle. Gareth took the stairs two by two after he’d heard. He burst through the living room door but it was too late. He saw the orange vial. Everything was a blur but he managed to call an ambulance.

“Cris, I’m sorry. I didn’t know please. Forgive me. The ambulance will be here soon and this will all go away I promise. You’ll be happy again… Please Cris?”

_“Fuck you Gareth. I’ll see your sorry ass in hell.”_

**Author's Note:**

> What did y'all think? Comments and Kudos are widely appreciated. Feel free to agree that I am indeed trash for writing this. I just wanted to give y'all something to hold onto while I'm typing up NA. I'm sorry that I started it at a point where my schedule was going to attempt to drown me. Anyways, happy New Year!


End file.
